


Paper Cut

by Realitythe2nd



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Chara's first orgasm, Chara's main reason for cutting is much different than anyone would ever think, Cutting, F/M, I didn't describe it though, I didn't think it was that graphic on the violence but I wen ahead and tagged it as such, I don't think it's necessary, Masochism, Self Harm, also there is very little Charsriel, and they had never had one before, but it is there, it's mostly just Chara-centric, let me know if you think I should, mischieftale au, so should I even tag it as underage?, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 19:01:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14291370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Realitythe2nd/pseuds/Realitythe2nd
Summary: Mom hid the knives, but there's always something you can use if you're determined enough.EDIT:Currently looking for a Chara Voice actor for my AU! You have to be willing to do nsfw, but it's paid work. Comment letting me know if you're interested! I need a female voice for them.





	Paper Cut

**Author's Note:**

> Would be good to read MischiefTale first to understand the part where Chara starts talking about that pleasant memory of what Asriel did to them one time, but I guess you don't have to if you don't want to. 
> 
> This is focused around Chara and the fact that they self harm. If you are having problems with that and depression and such, this may not be the safest thing for you to read. 
> 
> I actually didn't detail anything too much, nor did I make them think nearly as many self deprecating thoughts as I was going to, and I added in some sarcasm and dark humor, so it may not be too bad, but consider yourself warned anyway.

Paper Cut

  
AU: MischiefTale

  
AU and fanfic made and written by: Realitythe2nd, EcstaticFlyGirl

 

Mom hid the knives, but there's always something you can use if you're determined enough.

  
Many things have come to be banned in our household. Knives, forks without supervision, pens (though I don't think I'll try that again unless I'm desperate), she filed down the gardening tools, took up the paperclips and... God, what do they call those pins? I't's the middle of the night and I'm tired. God what is it called... Oh yeah. Safety pins. Ha ha. It's inappropriate to laugh, but...

They've never banned paper, though. Nobody expects an innocent sheet of paper to be used like that. Hell, I never thought of it either until I accidentally got my first paper cut on a book I was reading. And in the middle of the night when you find yourself needing release, you can't help but go back to moments like that and try to recreate them.

I sneak out of our room praying that Asriel doesn't notice me leaving, in search of a piece of paper. I'm like a vampire, minus the blood drinking. I'm probably just as pale, too, from lack of ever seeing the sun. I'e never really seen the sun anyway, have I? Where I was before I fell was also dark with no way of seeing the outside world anyway, so I'm white as snow. Well... maybe not THAT white. Azzy and I snuck out of the Ruins to play in the snow before and I boredly compared myself to a snowball. White as snow would probably be an overstatement, but I do come awfully close.

If I didn't wear long sleeves, what I have done to myself would really contrast.

  
As I strike the sheet of paper on my arm, intentionally hunting for a vein to drain out my pain, I come to the frustrating realization that apparently, if you want a papercut, you can't get one. It's one of those things that happen when you get too passionate while turning the page of a book. Kind of like when you go into a grocery store for bread, and somehow end up buying all of isle 5 as well. Those things aren't planned.

I figure it's because it's too damn big, and that's my problem. It certainly isn't a force issue. It's a regular size sheet of printer paper, and I'm holding it horizontally, attempting to mark up my arm with no success. I breathe out an irritated puff of air. If the size is the issue, I'll just fold it! I kept folding it and trying again over and over. I felt like screaming.

  
Get this out of me. Please, let me get it out... It hurts...

By now, it's folded into a messy rectangle, much smaller than when I started. I poke at the corner of it. Maybe the issue was sturdiness, not size. Though, it could be both. Yeah... that's probably it.

  
It's a real hit or miss situation with little chance of success. I'm finally getting my skin to open up with each strike, but the paper is starting to get flimsy on that corner, and this just isn't sharp enough to do the job.

Tape. Another thing Mom didn't think to ban that can be used for nefarious purposes.

I reinforce the sad weapon I've created. More paper for a sharper corner, and a carefully crafted sharp as a knife edge with tape. Here we are. God, this would have been easier with scissors that weren't round. How the hell do they expect this to cut anything? Though, I guess that's the point. Still, I never would have expected paper to be so dangerous.  It looks much less intimidating than a knife, but you have to be harsher with your strikes. You have to calculate. You have to think. I don't want to have to think. One of the biggest reasons I do this is so I can stop thinking. I think too much and feel too little I want those two to switch.

Asriel knows and he hates it. He helps sneak me a knife for when we go to train with each other in our intense fights, but he always takes it back up afterwards. I always beg him to let me keep just one, but he won't let me. I make my case every time, reminding him that I can always find a way, and he always responds with 'at least it won't be because I let you do it'. I know he loves me, but he doesn't understand. I've shown him the reason I need to do this. It's not an every night thing. It's just when it builds up inside that I have to let it out. My insides physically hurt until I can let it out, and I know that there's something wrong with me.

I normally bleed red, but I cut to let out the thick, ominous, painful black fluid that builds up. I know very little about my kind, but I know humans aren't supposed to bleed black. It helps to let it out. It builds back up again quickly, and I never have long enough to recover, but it's not like I do this for fun. It just hurts so deeply... as if it's some kind of poisonous substance that is trying to eat away at the inside of my veins. It gets excruciating if I wait too long, and trying to get this to work with thick, taped up paper is only making me feel worse. How can I be so stupid? There HAS to be something else. God, please...

I move to the kitchen and look in the drawers. **Where are the knives?** I inspect drawers and cabinets. She may have straight up thrown them away awhile back. If I had something to sharpen my nails to points, maybe I could have weapons Mom can't take up. I can't wait until I learn some magic. I want to be able to summon weapons like Dad. Dad's so cool with that trident. Dunno what the deal is with the flower, but damn, that's cool...

I look out out towards the living room and consider going back to Asriel. If I could use his claws while he was sleeping... Ugh, no. He's already traumatized from when I begged him to cut me that one time... he'd lose his mind if he saw me doing that. I go back to rummaging through the cabinets until I come across a can of meat that nobody has wanted to get into. It's the type that requires a can opener, and Mom still has a hand held one, so this would make much less noise than the electric one. I think I might be able to do something with the lid successfully.

The metal made a loud **POP!** Sound when I pressed down with the can opener. I freeze for a second before I slowly start to turn it, experimentally trying to see how it would sound. Why does it have to be so damn loud?! It's like it's trying to announce to the world that I'm up to no good again!

Normal kids wouldn't be found trying to self harm in the middle of the night with a metal lid from a can of fake meat. Normal kids don't bleed black. Normal kids don't hate themselves. Normal kids can wear short sleeves if they want to. Normal kids don't want to die. Normal kids don't think about how they have nobody to talk to about these things, because in the Underground, nobody has these problems.

I finally got the lid off. It made another loud sound. I wince. Please don't let me get caught. I'm only doing this because I have to. It's not like I do it for fun...

I inspect the lid in the dark. It needs washing  before I can dirty it up with what I want to use it for. I know that we can't waste water to wash one little lid, so I sneak down the hallway and step. On almost. Every. Creaky spot. I look up at the ceiling and quietly plead to no one in particular to just let this whole event come to an end already. It's like I'm a part of some kind of really grim comedy, and everyone's laughing at my pain. I can feel eyes on me all the time, all looking at me with different expressions. I don't know who they are, but I fear them, and they love my pain. They must be thoroughly amused by my suffering.

I finally get to the bathroom, and at the sink, I use the magic steam to disinfect the lid. I had wiped off the meat awhile ago, but now, the residue is gone, and I can actually use this how I had intended to in the first place. It's almost done. I choose to turn it up to the highest setting, making it scalding hot instead of wasting alcohol to finish disinfecting it. The pain helps. I grit my teeth and feel tears at the corners of my eyes, and then I open them and look at myself in the dark.

I've always had the ability to see in the dark. I have no need for light at night. It's always been something to be greatful for. How could I get anything done at this hour if I had to turn on any lights? The fact that I haven't been busted yet is a damn miracle, and I'm happy that they don't force me to show them my arms and legs every day. They would search our room and find a new weapon every time if they did that, and really drive that feeling of worthlessness into me. I didn't ask to suffer. I was just born this way. I can't wait for it to be over.

My face looks pitiful, and my red eyes glow in the dark a little bit. It might be my imagination, though. I look away from myself before the urge to punch the glass takes hold. God, I hate myself.

I consider the best place to do this. I hadn't really gotten any blood or black stuff out of me in the living room, so there wasn't a mess to clean up yet. The bathroom is likely the best place to do this.

The first drag of the lid across my skin nearly causes me to swear. I try to keep the noise down, but it's hard not to inhale sharply, and breathe out through my teeth. I control the groaning and keep going, letting out the black liquid into a bucket. I had hidden this bucket under one of the tiles in the corner awhile back to hide as much of the evidence as I could. So far, nobody has shown that they know anything.

Letting it out is like... God, how do I describe it with words... it's kind of like being a soda that keeps building up carbonation to the point that it tries to escape the container on its own, and then when you open the lid, it floods out everywhere and it just feels better. It's like being a tube of toothpaste that some idiot overfilled, and the owner of the tube has to squeeze a lot of it out before it can even be useful. It's like a container being filled with wet sand until the container starts to break. Letting the build up out until red replaces black makes me feel so much better. I always know when I'm finally done draining it because it stops being painful when it turns to red.

I've been cutting for what feels like hours. The bucket is full of liquid that's toxic to my body. Finally, when I make my final cut, I felt a pleasant pain instead of the pain I felt before, and I saw crimson instead of black. Now, I know that I'm done. But... I look at the red dripping into the bucket. It's almost sinful to continue now that I have no reason to, but it felt nice a moment ago. It kind of reminded me of a much duller pain than the time Asriel accidentally whipped me. When I'm toxic, cutting hurts. When I'm not toxic, the pain feels good.

I know better, but I drag it across my arm again, lean my head back, and suppress a moan. I love the pain. I should stop, but as long as I don't cut too deep, or go too long, the temptation to continue surpasses logic.

I found out awhile ago that I like pain. It's another thing that's wrong with me. I don't cut for pleasure, but this? This is doing it for me right now. A secret release. I feel relaxed now that I'm drained of the excess liquid that was overfilling my system, and now I'm down to the actual liquid that belongs in me dripping out pleasantly. It's warm and pretty and smells like copper. Would it be weird to lick it? Yeah. I think I'll refrain. I don't want to develop anymore weird habits. I'm already this pathetic. I don't want to be worse.

I wish Asriel would whip me again. It's a frequent go-to fantasy of mine. I don't know why I liked it so much, but thinking about it while I make marks on my arms makes me shiver. I hold in swear words, hold back moans, and try not to pant too much. God, this is really scratching an itch of mine...

I do it again and shiver harder. I have nothing to grip onto. Every spot I abuse is sweet, and I continue to do it even though I know I really should stop before I'm caught, and I can feel something else building inside of me that I actually like. Something other than black and red. Something that doesn't have colors, and can't be effectively described without feeling ashamed. I don't know how to explain it, but I'm currently enjoying myself so much, that I couldn't formulate a coherent sentence even if I wanted to anyway.

I cry out. I couldn't help it. I convulsed a bit, whined, and made sounds I didn't know I was capable of making before. This was my first time continuing to do it after the black liquid was gone. The physical and psychological relief that I had gotten from the experience made me feel...

Oh fuck, I heard a noise. I heard someone coming down the hallway. They must have heard the sounds I just made. I couldn't help it, though. It felt so good I couldn't hold it in. I've never felt that good in my life, and I was now looking forward to trying that again later on. It was my first time actually looking forward to doing this again.

I take the bucket and look at the mixture of red and black. The black looked like an evil, ever-moving creature that actually consumed the red. **It was eating my blood.** That probably explained the pain. I suppressed the urge to vomit and ran on pure adrenaline as I tried to dump the liquid down the hole that I hide the bucket in, shove the bucket down the hole, and readjust the tile. Now, I just need to dump this antiseptic on my arms, dry them, bandage them, and somehow hide what I was doing before anyone finds me in here. Oh God, there's not any liquid on the floor, is there? Ugh, the inside of my underwear feels sticky, and I don't know why...

I've never moved to hide the evidence this fast before and I thought I was going to die when I dumped that burning liquid onto the fresh cuts on my arms. I grabbed the sink to hold on for dear life as I did everything to control the sounds that almost came out of me. I'm in heaven.

I'm about to be in hell if I don't get a move on.

I used the magic steam at the sink to try and rinse off some of the black and red. The steam was too hot and I quivered and shook as the pain was intensified. I almost lost myself in the pleasure as that feeling started to take me again. I don't know what it was, but it was like cloud nine when it happened a moment ago, so I wanted to let it take me again. I smile a depraved smile and turn the heat all the way up, and feel such excruciating pleasure that I almost pass out. I actually screamed so loud that no sound came out. I had no idea that was possible, but when it finally stopped, I turned off the steam and my whole body felt like a limp noodle. My legs were like jelly, and I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror. Wow. What an expression to make. I don't know what all of this is about, but I do know enough to feel ashamed.

I quickly go to grab the gauze and almost trip and fall on my face. God, if I'm this clumsy and stupid, how am I even _alive?_

I quickly bandage my arms, rinse off the blood from the lid, hide the lid in one of the pockets on my brown cargo shorts, and pull my sleeves down. I peer out into the hallway. I don't see people. I grin as if I just got away with sneaking cookies from the cookie jar, and then I hear a voice.

"Chara?"

I swear to God that I almost screamed my lungs out, but I held it back with my hands. When the sudden adrenaline rush stopped, I thought I was going to fall over I was so relieved.

  
"Asriel, why?" I ask in a whisper. I probably look insane right now.

  
"I thought I heard you scream earlier..."

  
"Oh, ha ha... I'm fine. Really, I am. Hey... can I sleep with you tonight?" I flirt a little bit. I know that this is an easy way to get out of trouble.

  
"Oh! S-sure!" he's blushing, I'm blushing, hell, we're all blushing. We go back to our room and curl up together. "Are you sure you're okay?"

  
"Mhm..." I snuggle in the crook of his neck and practically purr. I feel relaxed and happy. I don't know what that feeling was that I got earlier, but I managed to get it twice. I'm sure I can make it happen again.

  
Now, if only I could get him to whip me... 

 


End file.
